


Careless

by catchmeifyoucreon



Series: Supernatural Shorts [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Battle of Wits, Breaking and Entering, Demons, Drinking & Talking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchmeifyoucreon/pseuds/catchmeifyoucreon
Summary: Rufus pays a certain demon a visit.





	Careless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost, with minor edits, from my Tumblr; you can find the original [here](http://nyebevans.tumblr.com/post/42049642237/careless-rufuscrowley) on my blog.

Rufus has always been smarter than the average hunter. He may not have been in the business for years, but he still has his tricks.

Naturally, he is definitely _not_  secretly thrilled at the look on Crowley’s face when he appears in his heavily-protected home to find Rufus sitting at his table with a bottle of Glencraig and two glasses already laid out.

“Sit,” Rufus says. Crowley folds his arms and does not sit down.

“What are you doing in my house?” Crowley asks.

“Well now,” says Rufus, who is actually rather looking forward to breaking open the Craig, “I was just sitting here minding my own business, but now that you’re home I think I’ll start with a drink.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Crowley says, running his fingers along the back of the empty chair opposite Rufus. “Letting go of your inhibitions in front of a demon?”

“Never said I was planning on getting drunk,” Rufus says. “Now, sit.”

This time, Crowley does as he is told, and again, Rufus is completely and absolutely _not_  delighted at this victory.

“So,” Crowley says after his second refill. “What are you actually doing in my house, Turner?”

“You remember me,” Rufus says. “I’m flattered, truly.”

“Answer the question,” Crowley says, tipping his head back to down the rest of his drink. Rufus sighs and pours them both another measure.

“Can’t a guy just break into someone’s house to drink whiskey without it turning into twenty questions?”

“Think about that question,” Crowley says. “And then, answer mine.”

Rufus rolls his eyes, but he knows when he’s been backed into a corner. “I heard you were talking to the Winchester boys,” he says, his voice carefully edged. Crowley snorts.

“Those two knuckleheads,” he says. “I may have been.”

“And I heard that the Harvelles were involved,” Rufus adds. Crowley frowns.

“Who?”

“Okay,” Rufus says, and breathes. Maybe it’s not – maybe they’re not –

“These Harvelles,” Crowley says. Rufus tips the bottle towards him and shakes his head.

“Nah, I must have gotten some bad info somewhere down the line,” he says.

“How careless,” Crowley says. “You must be getting old.” He refills his glass slowly, the sound of whiskey against glass far too loud in the high-ceilinged room. Rufus looks down at the table.

“I am,” he says, quietly. So quietly that Crowley doesn’t actually respond to him, though he must have heard. They carry on drinking in silence, and maybe Rufus wasn’t altogether truthful when he told Crowley he wasn’t planning on getting drunk.

Maybe he’s just getting careless.


End file.
